


Apart from the one where I have the body of a crab; I cannot hold my pen

by 18WhyamIdoingthis20



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Crack and Angst, Thomas is a crab, it's just a dream, there's a surprising level of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 12:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/18WhyamIdoingthis20/pseuds/18WhyamIdoingthis20
Summary: Thomas' dream where he has the body of a crab, basically.My own dreams are usually very incoherent and nonsensical, so I tried to add that into it to make it more realistic. Somehow it ended up angsty.
Kudos: 18





	Apart from the one where I have the body of a crab; I cannot hold my pen

Darkness… nothing but darkness. Thomas blinked his eyes, trying to force them to adjust, but the darkness was too intense. It wasn’t merely dark – there was a clear absence of light. Thomas blinked his eyes again – there seemed to be something moving in the darkness, shifting, approaching. Thomas’ mind was foggy; he shook his head to try and clear his mind.

The scene changed. Thomas was on a beach now – he could hear the crash of the waves upon the shore and see greyish-yellow sand stretched out before him, the sea reflecting an overcast sky. Thomas looked down. He could see crabs scuttling around beneath him, running away from him and towards the great expanse of the ocean. He tried to move, but his body did not obey him.

Suddenly, the scene changed again, and Thomas found himself in the study at Button House. He found himself there often – it was a good place to write. He scuttled over to the desk and tried to reach a hand out to pick up a pen, but instead of his hands, he saw giant claws, which knocked over the inkstand and poured an ink blacker than night all over the pages arranged on the desktop. Thomas tried desperately to blot the ink, but it was a difficult task to achieve with giant claws for hands. The mess seemed to be worsening instead, coating his claws with the ink, and staining everything he touched. Thomas let out a sigh of frustration and tried to leave the room, but his crab body moved unpredictably, taking him sideways and further into the room, rather than towards the door.

The scene changed again; Thomas was back on the beach, this time scuttling with the other crabs into the sea, his crab body propelling him with unimaginable speed towards the ocean. He could feel his feet touching the sand; it was dry at first but became damper as he approached the sea. He entered the spray, the seafoam tickling his feet as he ran. The sea became deeper as he ran further; soon it had reached the bottom of his shell, but still he ran, his body crashing through the waves as though they were nothing. Still he ran, further and further into the sea, his shell plunging beneath the water, which had reached his neck. Thomas feared that he would drown in the sea, as he still had his ordinary head, but he could not stop his crab body from running further into the water.

The water had reached his face now, the salt stinging his eyes and nose, ocean water flooding into his mouth. Thomas was panicking, but his crab body was completely beyond his control, taking him further and further into the sea as it became more and more difficult for Thomas to breathe.

Thomas was back in the study, surrounded by a mess of spilt ink. Thomas held his hand in front of his face – it was his normal hand again. Nervously, he flexed his fingers. They moved normally. Sighing with relief, he sat down at the desk, thinking that maybe he could write of his adventures in an epic poem. He reached out to pick up a pen, but when it slipped away from his grasp, Thomas saw that his hand was yet again a giant claw, which knocked over the inkstand again, washing Thomas’ crab body in ink.

Darkness again – nothing but darkness. Thomas felt himself again struggling to breathe as he moved through the nothingness. As he tried to check whether he were crab or human, he realised that he was surrounded by the ink he had spilt. His body moved forwards, half swimming, half walking, and from the movement of his legs, Thomas guessed that he was still a crab.

The waves were crashing upon the shore again, and Thomas stood on the beach, six of his legs resting upon the slightly damp sand. A light breeze ruffled his hair, but he could not readjust it with his claws.  
“Thomas,” he heard a familiar female voice call. “Thomas, where are you?”  
“I’m here, my love,” Thomas called in response, for he recognised the voice as that of Isabelle. “Where are you?”  
“I’m here,” Isabelle replied, for she now stood in front of Thomas on the beach. “What has happened to you?”  
“I am a crab.” Thomas replied bluntly.  
“I cannot marry a crab. You look hideous. Papa would certainly not approve. I am afraid that I cannot love you like this, Thomas.”  
“No,” Thomas sobbed, trying to follow Isabelle as she walked away from him down the beach. “Come back! I love you! At least let me say goodbye!”  
Isabelle dissolved in a swirl of fabric and sand, leaving Thomas sobbing alone on the beach. Looking down, he saw that he was in the study again. Tears still streaming down his face, he tried to reach for his pen to write his thoughts down in poetry, but claws could not hold it. Everything fled from his touch, the walls of the room cascading around him. He thought he could hear the voice of Francis in his ear as everything around him dissolved into the impenetrable darkness.

Thomas awoke with a start. Looking down, he was relieved to see that he had his body again. While he might still have been unable to hold his pen, he was glad that his ghostly form resembled that which he had had during his life, rather than a crab. “How could Alison love me if I was a crab?” he thought to himself, before settling back down and falling asleep again.


End file.
